having spent more than a week on foot in rwanda’s capital, kigali, i remain amazed that there are not more pedestrian accidents. the roads are teeming, and I mean teeming, with people. most people don’t own a car, and they come into the central business district by taxi bus. jam packed with commuters coming in from the surrounding environs, people pop out of any one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of buses that ply Kigali’s commuter routes like the fizz that erupts from a can of coke.
like many african cities, kigali is not very foot-traffic friendly, and the leap from inside to outside the taxi bus is a sight to behold. women with babies strapped to their backs navigate the uneven transition from passenger to pedestrian with great dexterity. young men leap from the bus with athletic ease. business men and women, smartly dressed for a day at the office, add some decorum in gingerly exiting the taxi to join the stream of people walking along kigali’s dusty streets as they attempt to navigate a space to occupy in amongst the competing traffic.
once the foot hits the broken pavement, a bevy of activity meets the newly anointed pedestrian. men push wooden wheel-barrels full of bags of cement or cooking charcoal, women balance jerry cans of water or 15 kilo bags of rice on their heads, young men hawk their wares - khaki pants, chewing gum and packets of tissues, men’s shoes and neckties, or cell phone credits - while business commuters weave in and out of the foot and vehicle traffic that crowds kigali’s main routes. students, arms full of books stroll to school, hand-in-hand, in large groups. the yellow-jerseyed parking attendants that the city of kigali employs call after offending drivers to pay the hourly parking fee. most streets don’t have sidewalks - those are reserved for the main roads. so cars and people agree to disagree on the boundaries of what constitute roadway and what could be considered a sidewalk. a great cloud of red dust, kicked up by the competing activity, casts a pale shadow on the bee-hive that is kigali city centre.
from my perspective, walking is a defensive art. there is nothing resembling a shoulder that could be deemed sidewalk. it is simply one open space where the road becomes parking and parking becomes store front. pedestrians of all shapes and sizes vie for discernible space among the taxi-buses, the taxi-motos, the white toyota taxi-cars, known locally as ‘specials’ as the fare is too high for everyday use, and the SUVs and pick-up trucks of government projects, and internationals.
walking in busy places, where there are no discernible agreements between car and pedestrian, is a great source of stress for me. everyone else bobs and weaves, shuffles or strides their way to their final destination. i am focused on the 3 foot space in front of me, lest i walk into a car, trip on a pothole or land a foot in one of the many open manholes. the rwandans seem to enjoy my hesitancy. “mzungu (white person), you can move” is often uttered, and some particularly gracious individuals grab my elbow to walk me across the wide boulevards that cause me so much consternation. “don’t be afraid, it’s just kigali” is another oft-made observation. seems my fear is palpable….
the traffic along avenue de la justice is perhaps reflective of rwandan society itself. on the surface, it appears to be your average street scene, found in any city, anywhere. people are bustling with the day’s activities. any fear of pedestrian accidents is likely my eyes seeing an african scene through a western lens. if others fear for their safety, it is not revealed by the skill and precision with which they navigate their journey. how and where to navigate an appropriate space from which to walk to work or school, sell their wares, or wait for their next fare. this, i think, is not unlike the broader scheme of things in rwandan society.
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